


You're In This Bed With Me

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long time since Vecchio woke up with a gift like this in his bed, and before he knows what he's doing, he's taking advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're In This Bed With Me

**Author's Note:**

> On a meta level, for those to whom it matters: Kowalski's into it, but that isn't really foremost on Vecchio's mind. They're gonna need to have a talk about this.

There's somebody in bed with him. Vecchio doesn't know who, but he's used to waking up in bed with strangers now that he's Armando Langoustine, so he doesn't think about it; he just pushes his boxers down and off, then shoves the guy onto his stomach and climbs on top of him.

The guy grunts, but doesn't struggle. Good--this'll be easy. Vecchio's really not in the mood for a fight; why the fuck did Langoustine have to be such a bastard all the time? Some days, Vecchio just wants to get off, but a lot of the guys they send him really play up the fight thing.

Not this one, though. He spreads his legs, gives Vecchio a hand when he pushes the guy's boxers down, and then relaxes into the bed again.

Something about that penetrates the fog; Vecchio's starting to pull the pieces together. The guy's not struggling, the sheets feel rough and smell like--somebody else. The room's _warm_ instead of having that nuclear-winter air-conditioning thing going on. What the _fuck_...

He blinks a few times, looking around the room.

 _Not_ Vegas. Chicago. Kowalski's place--Kowalski's _bedroom_ , for God's sake. And that means the guy under him is--is...

Is spread out for him and breathing smooth and easy, that's what.

He grits his teeth. This isn't _Vecchio_. Vecchio might've taken Kowalski up on it when he said _Jesus, forget the couch; you'll kill your back. Split the bed with me, I don't care_ , but--lying on top of Kowalski, wanting Kowalski just because he's _here_...

He does, though. Kowalski's here and he's not fighting, and it's been a long time since Vecchio woke up with a gift in his bed like that.

He lies down again, stretched across Kowalski's back, and he thrusts down between Kowalski's thighs. There's just enough heat, just enough pressure, and Vecchio's getting more aroused by the second--this isn't going to take long.

He reaches up and gets a hand into Kowalski's hair as he gets close. He can't help it now; the lines are so goddamned blurred he can't even see straight. He ends up growling out what Langoustine used to growl out: " _slut_ ", and " _mine_ ", and he chokes out a moan as he comes, slick and sticky between Kowalski's thighs.

 _-end-_


End file.
